


Twisted Destiny

by SomethingWrong



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Collars, Dark Character, Don't Like Don't Read, Gags, Humiliation, Kidnapping, M/M, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Sexual Slavery, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 15:36:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17226707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomethingWrong/pseuds/SomethingWrong
Summary: A kidnapped Merlin meets his destiny in the form of slave trainer Arthur Pendragon.





	Twisted Destiny

**Author's Note:**

> **Don't like, don't read.** Contains threats of rape/non-con, sexual slavery and multiple other dark things. Please read the tags, and note I've chosen not to use Archive Warnings.
> 
> Merlin does not belong to me, I'm just playing with its characters.

***

Merlin’s hands are tied behind his back and he’s in the trunk of a car going — apparently — down a small and bumpy road, considering the speed and... well, bumps. The gag in his mouth is made of some sort of fabric and is uncomfortably secure, and the only noises that escapes him are muffled groans. He’s also naked and shivering slightly, despite it being the middle of summer.

The events leading up to this moment are hazy, at best. He’d been out celebrating his uni degree with some friends... and then something about a woman flirting with him, buying him drinks and then offering to drive him home. And, honestly, she wasn’t even _that_ intimidating. Why would he fear her?

For quite a lot of reasons, clearly.

She must have drugged him, tied him up and is now taking him somewhere. But where? And why? Just as Merlin thinks this, the car moves up onto smoother ground and a few moments later, comes to an abrupt halt.

The boot is opened and it’s still dark outside. The woman looks down on him and smiles.

“Awake, are you?” She helps him up and out of the car.

Looking around, Merlin can see that they’re surrounded by forest, with only the small road leading up to a decently-sized cottage. He shifts and accidentally steps on a small twig with his bare feet. He lets out a hiss that is effectively muffled by the gag. The lights in the house are on and it looks cosy enough, but Merlin feels small and fear trickles up his spine. Why is he here?

“Come,” the woman says. “We’ve been driving for hours, you probably need to pee.”

When she reminds him, Merlin knows it’s true. He is led towards the trees and is unceremoniously shoved down onto his knees in front of some big bushes.

“Pee.”

It’s a command, and Merlin looks up at her, disbelieving. He moves his bound wrists to indicate that he can’t.

“Oh, please,” she says and eyes him tiredly. “We won’t go inside until you have, so just go already.”

Merlin closes his eyes and imagines himself and Will, doing those stupid peeing contests they used to have as kids. It still takes minutes for Merlin to feel relaxed enough to go. He tries to shake his hips a bit to get rid of the last drops of piss, causing the woman to laugh. It’s a soft one, which doesn’t at all correlate with the way she barks out orders. It’s all very humiliating.

“Come,” she says and hoists him up on his feet again, prodding him to walk towards the cottage.

Merlin could make a run for it. He could run into the forest and try to find someone to help him. But he doesn’t know where he is, how far he’d have to run, or if it’s even possible to find his way from here. When he looks up at the cottage, he knows he has to try, though. With a surge of energy, he turns and knocks into the woman with such force that she stumbles and falls.

As he runs for the woods, he can hear her scramble. He thinks he can hear a second voice — a man — but he’s not sure and he doesn’t feel like staying and finding out.

He runs as fast as he can, throat burning with the effort. Suddenly, he realises how animals must feel during a hunt: desperate enough to do anything to survive. Merlin can hear voices, but they’re pretty far away, and he slows his pace slightly to try and get his bearings. It’s not easy, but he thinks that the driveway is a bit to the left, so he turns in that direction before setting off again.

Then he hears dogs bark and his heart starts pounding violently in his chest. They have dogs! How is he going to escape dogs? Merlin spins around and sees two of them through the trees. With them is a man, but Merlin doesn’t dare stop. They are clearly in league anyway — the man and the woman.

Even when he runs at his top speed, the dogs gain on him. When he stumbles and falls, they are on him in seconds. Merlin writhes and tries to scream as sharp claws dig into his back, holding him in place. Sweat is running down his temples and he blinks back tears as the man reaches him, calls back the dogs and pulls him up onto his feet.

“Hello there,” he says. “Morgana said she had a gift for me, and you really are, aren’t you?”

Merlin looks at him as defiantly as he’s able to with tear-filled eyes and a dirty gag in his mouth. The man is good-looking: fit, blond, and obviously strong.

“I’m Arthur, and you’re Merlin, unless you lied to Morgana. A destined match, it seems. If you’re lucky, I’ll let you call me your king.”

He chuckles at his own joke. Merlin tries to jerk away from him, but the grip the man has on his arm is tight. There’s a small smile on Arthur’s lips as he swings Merlin around and points further up ahead.

“Do you see it?” he says. “The fence? You don’t think we’d allow our slaves to escape, do you? It’s barbed and electrified, so this...” He makes a sweeping gesture with his other hand. “...this is our playground.”

Suddenly, all the fight goes out of Merlin and he sags down onto his knees. The dogs growl, but Arthur must have given them a nonverbal signal, because soon they take off towards the cottage.

Merlin hardly notices when his gag is removed. He notices when Arthur ties a rope to the bindings around his wrists that are still bound behind his back, runs it down his arse cleft and forward between his legs. He definitely notices when the rope is tugged as it chafes against his balls, and he struggles back up onto his feet and follows the man in front.

“It is,” he says weakly.

Arthur glances over his shoulder. “What?”

“My name. Merlin is my real name.”

Arthur laughs. “So it might actually be destiny, then.”

***

When they reach the building, Morgana is there, petting the dogs. She doesn’t look hurt or even angry that Merlin pushed her to the ground earlier.

“Well, dear brother, I guess you have your work cut out for you with that one.”

Arthur smiles and leans in to give Morgana a kiss on the cheek. “I’m sure. Thanks for the gift, it’ll be fun to break it.”

“It probably needs a good clean,” she says as a parting statement, waves happily as she hops into the car, and drives off.

There’s a quiet moment before Arthur turns to Merlin again. “It’s true, you know. You do need a wash. Luckily, I can fix that.”

Merlin is led behind the house, and Arthur unties and reties his hands only to hoist them over his head and fasten them onto something. “What...?”

“Shh. I’ll take care of you.”

It’s uncomfortable, standing on his tippy toes with his hands strung up over his head, and Merlin has trouble keeping his balance. When the cold jet of water hits him, he loses it and struggles to regain his footing. Arthur is cleaning him, all right, but with a garden hose, and Merlin sputters and tries to wriggle away from the harsh, freezing jet of water. It goes on for way too long, and eventually, Merlin gives up the endless fight to shiver from the cold.

Then it stops. Arthur is there, helping him away from the puddle of dirty water on the ground.

“You did well, Merlin. You’re almost done for now. I’ll soon let you sleep.”

Unable to fight, Merlin just nods and follows as Arthur leads him down a couple of stairs, through a door and into a cellar. There, he allows Merlin to sink to his knees as Arthur carefully dries him off with a soft towel.

Arthur unties the rope around his wrists and replaces it with something softer. Merlin’s not sure what — he’s drifting off out of pure exhaustion.

***

Arthur looks down on the pale, naked man lying on the concrete floor. He makes sure that the leather cuffs are secure before putting on the matching collar. It’s a high-class one with one big D-ring in the back and four slightly smaller ones in the front.

Running his hands over Merlin’s soft skin, Arthur sighs. He wishes he could start the training right now, but the man deserves some rest. It’s not like he’ll get a lot of it later. Such amazing spirit, Arthur thinks. It’ll almost be a shame to break him.

With a little bit of effort, he lifts Merlin up and moves him to the big dog bed in the corner. He clasps the handcuffs together and fastens the chain leading to the collar. It should give Merlin enough leeway to move around somewhat freely during the night, but not enough to reach somewhere important. A heftier chain is secured to a ring in the wall.

Then Arthur caresses his new slave’s hair before getting out the thin, black hood and pulls it over Merlin’s head, adjusting it so that the hole for the mouth is in the right place. Carefully, he fastens it in the back and front of the collar, making it impossible to pull off, and stands up. The temperature in the room should be enough to keep Merlin comfortable through a few hours of sleep, but Arthur takes a thin blanket off a shelf and spreads it over him anyway.

With an annoyed huff at his own sentimentality, he turns without another glance at Merlin and goes up the stairs. He leaves the door unlocked, certain Merlin won’t be able to escape.

***

Merlin is confused as he wakes up. Everything is dark and he’s disoriented. There’s a soft jangle when he moves, but he still can’t see anything. His body hurts from having slept practically on the floor, and it’s not until he tries to turn onto his back that he realises that his hands are bound. Still bound. All the events of yesterday come crashing down on him and for a second he panics and tries to get up off the floor. The collar stops him and he plops down on his arse more out of surprise than choice. It takes a couple of minutes to get his breathing under control again.

Then there’s a sound: a door opening and closing. Steps getting closer.

Merlin starts breathing harder again, his heart rate picking up. He swallows and licks his dry lips.

“Wh— who’s there?” he says, voice barely more than a whisper.

There’s an answering voice anyway. “Arthur. We met yesterday.”

Right. Right. It’s not like Merlin has forgotten what happened yesterday. He hasn’t forgotten the hunt, or getting 'cleaned' with the garden hose. He hasn’t forgotten getting kidnapped and drugged and undressed before being tied up and shoved into a car trunk. He hasn’t forgotten any of it.

“You’re... Are you keeping me here?”

Arthur’s voice is close-by now. Calm. “Yes.”

“W— why?”

“Sex.”

Merlin tries to back away from the voice, but Arthur puts his big hand on Merlin’s neck and keeps him in place.

“You’re worth a lot of money. All sex slaves are. Why do you think people trade in it?”

“That doesn’t happen here. That’s just in... in, I don't know, Asia or Central America or whatever. It’s not here!”

A thumb absentmindedly strokes the hair right at Merlin’s nape.

“Some people prefer people with Asian looks, some like black skin. Some like Welsh twinks with big ears.”

The voice has become teasing, which doesn’t calm Merlin down one bit. “So— so what? You’ll just sell me? You don’t own me. You can’t sell me! It’s— It’s illegal!”

Arthur’s hand slowly caresses the side of Merlin’s neck until it ends up at his throat. He tightens his grip and pushes, forcing Merlin back until he’s pressed against the cold wall. “I _can’t_ sell you?”

The pressure makes it hard to breathe, but when Merlin pushes back with his cuffed hands, fighting, air rushes back into his lungs and he sags slightly to the side. Gulping, he tries to catch his breath.

“Of course I can,” Arthur says, conversationally.

“Wh— why not do it now, then? Right away? Why bring me... here?”

“Oh!” Arthur barks out a surprised laugh and it chills Merlin to the bone when he realises that it gives him some weird, small sense of comfort. “Oh, you need training. Our clients won’t be satisfied with uncivilized boys who don’t know their place.”

“I’m not—!” Merlin checks himself, licks his lips again.

Wrapping his arms around his knees and curling into a ball, he needs to really check himself. Was he really about to start a word war with his kidnapper? Like being called uncivilized is his biggest problem right now.

It seems, however, that Arthur can read Merlin’s thoughts.

“Oh, sweetheart. You’ll learn to come to terms with it when the training begins.”

“If I’m so valuable...” Merlin begins before swallowing thickly and continuing. “If I’m so valuable to you, you won’t hurt me.”

It’s not a question, and Merlin tries his best to keep it a statement.

Arthur actually chuckles at that, though. “In a sense. But it’s impossible to train someone without offering them rewards when they behave... or punishments when they don’t. To be able to train someone properly, you have to do it from the ground, up. You need to break it before you can build it.”

A second’s silence.

“Don’t worry, though. Bruises fade and we only leave permanent marks in places that isn’t immediately visible.”

Arthur’s hand runs over Merlin’s naked chest, carefully caresses his chest hair, but eventually returns to his throat. The grip tightens a tiny bit, but not enough to make it difficult to breathe.

“Ready to start your training?”

“No!”

The hand around his throat tightens again, but not enough to keep Merlin from shaking his head and repeating his protests. “No. No, no, no, no, no! Please... please, Arthur? Let me go. You can just drop me outside the gates and I won’t say anything to anyone. I’ll find my own way back, I don’t care, I just want—”

He trails off into a gurgling sound before quieting completely as Arthur takes a proper choke hold with both hands.

“Quiet,” he orders.

The panic runs like an electric current through Merlin’s muscles. With a small huff, Arthur lets go and waits as Merlin sinks down on the dog bed, gasping and coughing.

“Choking isn’t really my thing, Merlin,” he says, “but it’s a tool I’ll use it if you don’t listen to me. So listen.”

He unhooks the hood and carefully removes it. Merlin looks up at him, blinking at the sharp lights in the ceiling. Leaning over him Arthur looks threatening, but Merlin doesn't fear him as much as he probably should. Not yet, anyway. Somehow, he can tell Arthur has a soft underbelly. Maybe he just needs the right opportunity to get out of here... 

Arthur interrupts his thoughts with a decisive “Stay”, and seemingly ignores the glare Merlin gives him at being ordered around like an obedient dog.

***

Arthur leaves Merlin in the sleeping room and walks into the adjacent room — their training room. Or, one of them, he's got a couple. He unhooks what he wants from a board on the wall and walks back out to Merlin.

“Open your mouth,” he orders, but this time, Merlin isn’t complying.

Instead, he presses his lips tightly together and stares defiantly at Arthur. It’s almost endearing how he thinks he’ll get away with it. Or, maybe he doesn’t, but tries anyway.

Sighing at the small inconvenience, Arthur kneels in front of Merlin to get on the same level as him. “Last chance: open your mouth.”

Merlin shakes his head and keeps his mouth shut.

“Fine,” Arthur says and pinches Merlin’s nose before he can turn away.

He keeps the grip even when Merlin tries to shake him off, and he’s ready when Merlin opens his mouth to breathe. The ballgag slips neatly into Merlin’s mouth and Arthur lets go of his nose so that he can get air again.

“Good boy,” he says, ironically, as he fastens the buckle at the back.

Merlin just stares at him and struggles — already — with not drooling as he’s now unable to swallow his own spit.

“You’re prettier when you’re quiet,” Arthur says and lets Merlin adjust to the gag for a few minutes. “Maybe you always need to be gagged and drooling.”

He reaches out and strokes Merlin’s dark brown hair. “So much prettier than what I usually train.”

After a little while, it’s time to start the actual training, and Arthur ignores the way Merlin shies away from him as he reaches over to unlock the chain that is attached to the wall. He tugs it lightly.

“Come on. Up.”

Merlin doesn’t rise from the dog bed, and Arthur needs to hook a finger through one of the D-rings on the collar and pull him onto his feet.

“I see we’ll have to work on the obedience.”

The glare he earns from Merlin makes him smile. God, how he loves people with a bit of sass in them. It’s always so much more fun breaking them and then building them up again just the way he — or rather his clients — wants them.

Merlin’s lips are pulled taut around the ballgag, slick with spit dripping from his mouth. There’s a rumbling coming from behind the gag, but Merlin follows when Arthur tugs the chain again. Maybe he realises it’s not much else he can do.

Arthur leads Merlin into the next room and revels in the way Merlin’s eyes widen at the sight of the toy wall. He stops dead, but Arthur allows it. The wall is covered in sex toys, gags, ropes, leather harnesses, metallic instruments and other scary-looking things. Everybody leaves with a favourite, though, and Arthur’s sure Merlin will, too. He just needs to get used to all these new things and impressions.

Now, Merlin gives Arthur a scared look and starts to back away. The noises coming from behind the gag might be a string of “no’s”, but Arthur tightens his grip on the chain and doesn’t let Merlin back away further than it allows.

“You and me,” he says, “we’ll try these things out. I’ll teach you to like some, fear others, and you’ll appreciate what you’ll learn from each one.”

He takes a step forward, dragging Merlin with him. “This, for example,” he says and points to an intricate leather gag, “is a muzzle. It’ll keep you from talking, or opening your mouth at all. I have a client who uses it frequently on his slaves. He loves hearing them whine while he fucks or whips them, but doesn’t want them to talk. It’s quite effective.

“This is a paddle. It will make your arse sting, heat, and even bruise if I keep at it long enough. This is electrodes I can attach to your balls to make you writhe and scream for me to let you come. This is...” Arthur cuts himself off and turns back to Merlin, who looks pale and sweaty, eyes wide as saucers. “Well. Let’s not give away everything right away. Come, sweetheart, let’s set you up for today’s lesson.”

He undoes the chain between Merlin’s cuffs and the collar, instead hooking the cuffs together.

“Lift your arms,” he orders. Not surprising, Merlin shakes his head and refuses, but the protests are weaker now than in the sleeping room. Arthur sighs. “The more you disobey, the more I will have to punish you.”

Arthur doesn’t really expect Merlin to comply, so he just takes a firm hold of the cuffs and lifts them and Merlin’s arms up into the air, above both their heads. He hooks them onto the sturdy chain hanging from the ceiling, quickly securing them before he steps away, turning his back on Merlin and returning to the wall.

The clanging of the chain tells him that Merlin is yanking at them, seeing if maybe he can free himself. Arthur’s done this enough times to know that the chains will hold, and so will the cuffs. If they held for Percival, who was almost double the size of Merlin and who Arthur had to control with an electric cattle prod until he broke and submitted to him... they will hold for Merlin.

Strangely enticing Merlin.

Shaking his head to clear it, Arthur picks out one of the smaller paddles and turns around.

Merlin meets his eyes and stills, afraid he’s pushed too far. Arthur just smiles his most charming smile.

“You can try all you want. Where are you going to go even if you can get free? The house is locked down and outside is an electric, barbed fence. You’re stuck with me, I’m afraid, sweetheart. But don’t worry, you’ll come to like me soon enough.”

The look Merlin gives him is foul, and he again yanks the chain and shouts into the gag. The only thing that happens is that more spit is dribbling onto the floor. Arthur steps close, grabs Merlin’s neck to hold him still as he softly traces his lips along Merlin's jaw.

“You’re so pretty. The one who buys you will be lucky. And I’m sure you’ll fetch me a premium, too, Morgana is really good at finding the best ones.”

He kisses the corner of Merlin’s mouth, just above the leather of the gag, before running his hand over Merlin’s naked skin all the way to his bum. More noises escape Merlin, but Arthur doesn’t care. This is what he is good at. He can deal with all kinds of men, break them, train them to become perfect slaves. This is his element.

***


End file.
